This I Gotta See
by Echo1317
Summary: 3rd in Jason Aldean series. Iggy falls ill, with no real reason behind it. Will Annabelle be able to figure it out before it's too late? I love the irony of the title, because a lot of it is from Iggy's POV.
1. Chapter 1

A/N This is my favorite of the Iggy/ Annabelle stories, but I don't know why. It isn't the best, it's quite bad in fact, but I still love it.  
(This is the longest chapter so far, 836 words without my author's note.)

Disclaimer: I'm too tired to think of something clever, so I'll just say I'm not James Patterson and I only own the story line. Not even my OC's are really mine; they're my friends'!

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Chapter 1

**ANNABELLE'S POV**

I walked happily that morning, with an extra spring in my step. I was finally out of middle school, I was in a loving, devoted relationship, my parents were fighting less... I guess you could say life was perfect. Nothing could go wrong! I was loving life.

The Martinez's front gate was open, so I let myself in. It'd been a month since we'd been kidnapped, and in that time, I'd become a constant fixture at the house. It was totally normal for me to be at the house 24/7, I now only went home to get clean cloths and exchange CD's. Summer had come and, being mid- June, it was hotter than hell outside. Sometimes over 100 degrees.

I dropped my backpack at the door and went into the kitchen. Dr. Martinez was at the stove cooking eggs and bacon, while Max, Fang, Ella, Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel were crowded around the table. I smiled as they caused a ruckus; Max and Fang were arguing about God knows what, Gazzy was inconspicuously working on a bomb under the table, and Nudge was talking Ella's and Angel's ears off. In such a short time, these people had become more of a family to me than any of my blood relatives ever were. But where was Iggy?

"He's upstairs, still asleep," Dr. Martinez said, seemingly reading my mind, "You can go wake him up if you want to." She winked at me.

I nodded once in acknowledgement, and then turned to go upstairs. I found Iggy's room, third door on the left, and opened the door as quietly as I could. Iggy was lying on his stomach, spread eagle on the bed. The blinds were drawn and he was snoring loudly.

I giggled and went and lay down on the bed next to him. I planted butterfly kisses on his eyelids, and he stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible. It sounded like 'Sleepy time', and I giggled again.

"Good morning, sunshine," I whispered quietly. Iggy mumbled again, and I sighed, "Do I have to make you get up?"  
Suddenly, something soft and feathery brushed my shoulder. Iggy smiled.

"And how would you do that?" He asked, putting his arm around me and wrapping his wing tighter around us.

"Like this," I said, kissing him lightly.

"Mmmm, I think that would work," He sighed, kissing me again, more deeply this time.

"Why arn't you up yet? You're usually the first one out there," I asked him.

"I have a headache," Iggy explained, kissing my neck, "Nothing too bad, but it just won't go away."

"Oh," I said, "Do you want me to get you some Tylenol or something?"

"No, that's ok," He whispered, sighing once more, "I'm sure it won't last too much longer."

"So..." I trailed off, stifling a moan of pleasure as Iggy kissed my neck again, "Do you wanna get up now? Eat something to see if it gets rid of your headache?"

"Mmmm, 5 more minutes," Iggy said, burying his face in my hair and taking a deep breathe. I nodded my head, smiling. How good it felt to be in his arms. My skin tingled as he ran his finger up and down my arm.

We did eventually get up, but iy was 2 hours later instead of 5 minutes, when my stomach growling. Iggy kept his arm around my waist, and I kept smiling. This was what I lived for; being able to enjoy the little things like this because I was with someone I loved.

The kitchen was empty when we went down; everyone was outside in the warm summer sun. Iggy sat down at the table and put his head down on his arms while I got down a pan to start the eggs.

"Wait, wait," Iggy said quickly, getting up and taking the pan from me, "Let me do it. We don't want the house burning down."

I laughed and went to the fridge to find the necessary ingredients. Iggy took them from me, fearing the worst if I tried to even so much as crack an egg. He made me go sit down at the table while _he_ made us breakfast. I grinned as he did everything so precisely. He had this cooking thing down to an art.

We chattered about plans for the week as he beat and stirred and did things with the eggs beyond my range of comprehension. Finally, he set a plate in front of me and sat down.

"You're not eating?" I questioned worriedly. Iggy shook his head.

"Not hungry. Now, do you need two hands to eat, or may I have one?" He asked playfully, taking my hand in his. He played with my fingers while I ate hurriedly. Something in my gut told me that I should be worried; not once had Iggy ever been not hungry. But I didn't want to worry. I wanted to hold on to this blissful feeling.

I should've listened to my gut.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

One day passed, and then another. Iggy was still complaining of a worsening headache, and he hardly ate, like at all. He was really starting to worry me, so I tried to convince him to seek medical attention.

"You know what'll happen if I go to a hospital," Iggy argued with me one afternoon. We were sitting on his bed, listening to the radio and having a, for lack of a better phrase, hot-and-heavy make-out session.

"I know that, but you don't have to go to a hospital," I said earnestly as Iggy skimmed hid nose up and down my neck, "Just ask Dr. Martinez to check you out."

"I'm fine. It's just the heat or something I'm not used to," He said passively. He was so damn stubborn- not a bad thing at times, but now wasn't one of them.

"Please? For me? So I can stop worrying?" I pleaded with him. He sighed.

"Fine. For you," He whispered. He planted his mouth on mine and I opened my lips. God, I loved having him, being with him, kissing him. After a few moments, we both pulled away to catch our breath. Iggy put a hand on his head.

"I feel dizzy," He said groggily. I laughed a short, out of breath laugh.

"Me, too," I breathed, looking over at him. He seemed paler than normal, and he didn't seem to get enough oxygen. "Are you ok, Iggy? Iggy?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he leaned over the edge of the bed and spilled his guts on the floor. Then, he appeared to pass out and fall back on to the bed as his eyelids fluttered closed.

Aw, crap.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"So what's wrong with him?" I asked Dr. Martinez in agony. She shook her, looking over the clipboard in her hands. I glanced through the doorway at Iggy, who was laying on bed, hooked up to a bunch of machines that Dr. Martinez had brought home from the hospital- well, animal hospital, but the stuff worked, right? A heart monitor, an IV... I couldn't even identify the rest of them, and I hated seeing Iggy with so many wires in him.

"I don't know," Dr. Martinez said in a pained, distant voice, "But he's developed a fever, and his blood pressure's low."

My eyes traveled back to Iggy. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling heavily. His face was contorted in pain. I didn't want to watch him like this. I couldn't...

"Go in," Dr. Martinez said softly, "Be with him. He needs you."

I nodded weakly. Dr. Martinez walked down the hall to her office. I took a deep breath and walked into Iggy's room. I sat down in the chair next to his bed and took his hand in mine.

"So," Iggy said, gasping for air, "Do I... have... bird flu?"

I laughed brokenly, shaking my head no.

"No, not bird flu," I told him quietly, "But we don't know what else it could be, either."

Iggy closed his eyes and leaned back on the pillow. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I used one hand to wipe them away. Iggy took his hand out of mine and brought it up to my face. He lightly stroked my cheek, running his fingers delicately along the lines of my face. He frowned.

"You're crying," He accused, and I realized that there were tears streaming down my face. He brushed them away. "Don't."

"I can't help it," I said shakily.

"I'll get better. I promise. It's probably nothing," Iggy assured me. I closed my eyes.

"I'll make sure of that," I whispered. And I would. Even if it killed me, too.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**MAX'S POV**

I watched Fang pace worriedly in the confined space of my room. I sat cross- legged on the bed across from him. We'd switched places, it seemed, since the last crisis we'd endured. We were all still worrying, this time about Iggy.

"Gahr!" Fang yelled, abruptly turning and punching the frame of the window directly across from me. The glass rattled as he pressed his head against the wall.

I go up from my perch and walked over to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He was shaking, from the anger, and fear, and sadness, and confusion we were all feeling. I rested my head on his back.

"It's ok, we've had scares like this before," I whispered, remembering all the times we'd been taken or separated, all the times we'd thought each other to be dead, or close to it...

"It's different this time," Fang said in a low, intense voice, "This time we're not just wondering or imagining, we're watching, seeing him get worse and worse right in front of us. And there's nothing we can do about it!"

He hit the wall again and again, until I was afraid the window was going to shatter. I held him tighter.

"We'll get through this," I said, remembering his words to me, "Just like we always have. By sticking together and being a family."

Fang lifted his head and turned, putting his arms around me. This was hard on all of us, but Fang was taking it especially hard. He stuck his face in my hair.

"I love you, Max," Fang whispered. I stiffened for a moment. Those words had taken on a whole new meaning lately. I relaxed, letting my heart take over where my head was supposed to be.

"I love you, too," I said confidently, "Thiiis much." I squeezed him lightly, and he laughed half-heartedly.

"Let's go get some air," I suggested, opening the window. I leapt down onto the trellis under it, Fang following close behind. We clambered down down the side of the house cautiously. After a running start we leapt up and coasted on the on the nights cool breeze.

It would be ok. Somewhere inside I knew it would be alright.

_Keep the faith, Max._


	5. Chapter 5

This is mostly a filler chapter, as are 6, 7, and 8. See, I wrote chapters 1-3, then 8-10. Don't ask. I hate middles.

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Chapter 5:

**ANNABELLE'S POV  
**I was scared.

Nothing scares me. I had been in several situations in the past few months that should've scared me. Ones in which I could've- and probably should've- died. They were nothing compared to this. They didn't scare me one bit.

The thought of loosing Iggy did.

He tried his best to stay awake when I was around, to try to talk to me. But he was too tired. The illness was draining, and he'd begin dozing off in the middle of sentences. It was at these times when I'd simply kiss his forehead and leave the room. Sometimes I would stay and sit with him, holding his hand or stroking his hair. My eyes were hardly ever dry these days, something that bothered Iggy more than me.

"I wish you wouldn't cry," He complained to me one day as he brought his hand up to my face.

"I can't help it," I whispered helplessly, "I'm sad."

Iggy sighed, letting his fingers travel down my neck and arm. I closed my eyes and felt a shiver rum through my body at his feathery touch. I would figure out what was wrong with him. I would.

Even if it killed me, too.


	6. Chapter 6

This is absolute crap, I litterally wrote it ar 12:57 AM on a Saturdat morning. Inspiration strikes me at odd times. Also, the extent of my medical knowledge stems from any episodes of House I have watched recently, so I apaologize for any mistakes or lack of details and stuff in this story.

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DR. MARTINEZ'S POV

Iggy was in acute liver failure.

None if the tests I had run showed any apparent cause for his deteriorating condition. Blood scans, x-rays, MRIs, anything and everything I could think of. But there was still no reason why he was about to die.

It was late the night I knocked on his door, intending to tell him exactly how little I knew. He was laying awake with the TV on low so he wouldn't wake Annabelle, who was sitting in a deep sleep in the chair by the bed. He torso was splayed out on the bed, a troubled look on her young face. There were small wrinkle lines on her forehead from all the worrying she did. She shouldn't have to worry so much at her age. After I laid everything out, Iggy had only one quiet, heartbreaking question.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"  
Tears formed in my eyes and I put my hand on his shoulder. No way in hell should a man as young as Iggy have to resign himself to the fact that he was going to die, and soon.

"There's only so much I can do with such inconclusive tests," I said, my voice shaking. I closed my eyes and shook my head. When I opened them, I saw Iggy looking towards Annabelle, his hand gently stroking her hair. He turned his head back to me, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. I put my arms around him and hugged him close to me; it killed me to know that this was all I could do. Iggy buried his face in my side, his body shaking as he tried not to cry any harder. It was as though my own son had been sentenced to death, and I was the prosecutor, judge, and jury.

My heart ached as Iggy laid his head back on the pillows and I left the room a while later. How could I not know? How could I let him die like this? I went quickly and determinedly back to my office. I had to get this right.


	7. Chapter 7

You are reading Fang's blog. Welcome!  
You are visitor number: 0000000

Yo, readers. I've got to apologize for not posting anything in a while. I do have a good excuse, though. Iggy's been sick recently, and no one can figure out exactly what's wrong with him. I even tried to WebMD it, but there were way too many diagnosis for way too many common symptoms. We're all really worried about him, as you might understand. Things have taken a turn for the worst over the last few days. We're trying to be with him as much as possible right now.

I may be AWOL for the next few days, even weeks, maybe. Fly on.

-Fang out


	8. Chapter 8

**ANNABELLE'S POV**

My life was spinning majorly out of control. Iggy's condition was worsening by the minute, and he could be dead within a matter of days if we didn't figure out what was wrong. Hell, screw the days, it could be hours. He was barely conscious half the time, but he was trying so hard to be brave for me. I almost wanted to slap him for it. I could tell he was as scared as I was. And the worst part was that the flock was giving up and saying their goodbyes. And so was Dr. Martinez.

"It's ok, Annabelle," Iggy said, holding my hand as tightly as he could. He was barely squeezing it. "Just relax for a little while. Take a break from worrying. Go watch House or something. You don't need to be here every minute."

"Yes, I do," I whispered. _When every minute could be your last,_ I added in my head. My heart was breaking; I could feel it shattering in my chest. After several minutes of arguing, Iggy kicked me out of his room. I walked downstairs into the living room and turned on the TV. One hour. I could last an hour. Then he'd let me back in. I could totally survive that, right?

I flipped randomly through the channels until I stumbled upon and episode of my favorite show _House_. The episode was just starting, one called _Detox_, I think. I was hardly listening, until something caught my attention. I watched intently, hearing some all- too- familiar symptoms, and wrong diagnosis that I'd given Iggy myself. My brain went into hyper-drive.

Oh my God.

I jumped off of the couch and ran to Fang and Gazzy's room, barging in without knocking. Fang was lying on his bed, his headphones on and the drapes closed. I opened them quickly and light poured in. Fang started and threw his hands over his eyes.

"God, what the crap, Annabelle?" He yelled angrily.

"I need your laptop," I demanded feverently, "Now."

"Fine, it's on the dresser, take it and leave me alone!" Fang yelled again, rolling over and hiding his head. I took the laptop and went back to the living room. It booted up quickly and I opened up the Internet, sure I was right.

I just hoped we weren't too late.

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She figured it out! Yeah! I'll past the last 2 chapters tomorrow. Another yeah, there are only 1 and 1/2 days of school left! Whoohoo, summer!


	9. Chapter 9

**FANG'S POV**

I was here, but I didn't know why. I hadn't been to see Iggy except once during this whole thing. It was way too... hard, I guess. Painful. Finally, Max had convinced me to go in again. Maybe she wanted me to say goodbye or something- I was so not up for that. We talked about random, meaningless stuff for a while. Music, video games, the blog. Then, after a particularly long silence, Iggy started with the serious-ness.

"Take care of Annabelle for me, ok?" He said quietly. I frowned.

"Don't talk like that, man," I chided him testily, "You can take care of her yourself when all this is over. When you get better."

"But what if I don't?"

The question hung in the air, the one I'd been dreading to ask. I'd been avoiding it on purpose, not being able to make peace with the fact that Iggy might not pull through. I could not accept that we might never know what's wrong with him.

"So will you?" Iggy asked after a while. I swallowed hard, feeling my throat constrict.

"I will," I whispered.

"Thanks," He said, holding out his fist. I pounded it with my own.

"So, what do you think it's like?" He asked earnestly,"The after life? Heaven, hell, all that shit?"

I leaned back in my chair, resting my feet on the bed and placing my hands behind my head.

"I'll bet there are alot of hot chicks there," I told him, sighing. He smiled and got a far away look on his face.

Just then the door swung open. I jumped in suprise and turned to see Annabelle walking in quickly. She held a sledge hammer with both hands. There was a slightly crazed look in her eyes.

"What are you doing, Annabelle, are you insane? What's that- "

My words were drowned out by the sound of the hammer as it came into contact with the wall. Termites spilled over the hole and along the wall. My jaw dropped.

"Yep, that's what I thought," Annabelle said, nodding once. She walked out of the room as quickly as she had come, and as mysteriously. There was silence again.

"Um," Iggy said, looking confused, "What just happened?"


	10. Chapter 10

**IGGY'S POV**

The warm sunlight danced on my skin as I leaned on the windowsill. It felt so good to use my legs, and wings, again. I realized just how lucky I was, how fate (and the cable company) had been on my side. I heard Fang's silent footsteps as he approached from behind. He clapped his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey," He said happily, "It's good to see you up and around again."

"Yeah," I agreed slowly, "But nephthalene poisoning? How incredibly random is that?"

The termites that were nesting in Dr. Martinez's walls had been the immediate cause of my illness. They had been secreting nephthaline, like the stuff they put in moth balls, which is actually pretty dangerous if you're exposed to too much of it. They'd mainly been in my room, which sucked for me. We were all staying at a cool little hotel place while the house was being fumigated.

"Incredibly random. But I'm glad we figured it out. Well," Fang said, "Annabelle and House did anyways."

Annabelle. My love (So cheezy, huh? But true.). I owed her my life. She was like an angel streight from heaven to save me. God, I'm just full of crappy cliches, aren't I? Guess it comes with the whole love thing.

"What time is it?" I asked anxiously.

"'Bout 7. Why?" Fang replied, leaning on the window next to me. I smiled.

"Well, right about now, there's a girl waiting on me. If I know her (which I do), her hair's still wet from her bath. She's wearing one of my ratty old sweatshirts that doesn't fit me 's gonna be sitting out front with a glass of iced tea watching the sunset. I bet she looks pretty in the light," I said quietly. I heard Fang shifting positions.

"You're dead on. I can just barely see her from here," Fang told me, "Looks like she's got a glass for you, too. What the- " Fang burst into laughter.

"What happened?" I asked eagerly. It sucked to be blind and miss all this stuff that was gping on.

"Gazzy just pelted Annabelle with a flour bomb!" He said, still laughing. I knew exactly what he was talking about; an empty eggshell filled with flour. They'd been one of mine and the Gasman's first attempts at explosives. I laughed, too, turning to head down the stairs.

"This I gotta see."


	11. AN

Ok, I am debating whether to post the next 2 installments. Most of you will probably hate me for them because they are very OOC and a little AU. They get very off track from the rest of these fics, and I'm afraid to ruin the whole series by putting them up. Here is the summery for #4:

Max decides that it's time for the flock to move on. Iggy and Annabelle are seperated, and of course now is when Annabelle's ex decides to show up.

I didn't like that one all that much, but I can't say why without giving away key details of the plot that are supposed to be twists.

So, now it's up to you. Should I continue this fic or cancel it? Post reviews with your opinion, or PM me. Thanks!

-Echo1317


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